It was a great culture and it faded.
They always do – in the failing is 
their glory. Shining uniform clouds 
to populate a sky over autobahns
and genitals scrubbed clean, laws
to regulate coughing. The girls just love
English but speak it like good Kraftwerk 
lyrics. In truth, there are vast symmetries
of boredom, flaring to violence and then
reclining on a 3pm beach of gold blue 
where nothing happens until a shutter 
opens – a gorgeous waft, fine cooking,
eaten over hours.

You would argue, who’d reject this? 

The bookshelves in the heat, process
endless to the channel. There comes
the welcome rain, not ugly nor angry.

As an idea, I hate it – only the reality
worked, untrammelled, unstable as
cities built with water for walls – the 
blue and white encircling but perfect.


Paul Sutton

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